


[Love Lives In] Strange Places

by orphan_account



Category: Diving RPF, Gymnastics RPF, Olympics RPF, Swimming RPF
Genre: Bets & Wagers, Blow Jobs, First Kiss, First Time, Language Barrier, M/M, Music, Musical References, Piano
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 19:53:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3262364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompted by an annoying occurrence of events Ryan Lochte makes a bet with his buddies to end said occurrences. Then a certain baby-faced German gymnast gets stirred into the mix and fucks everything up (in a good way.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	[Love Lives In] Strange Places

* * *

Having musical instruments lying around in weird places all across the Village has become sort of a given at the Summer Games.

Ryan remembers in Athens how people kept finding harmonicas in the vending machines and trumpets in the showers. Someone also put three acoustic guitars in the corridor of the American dorms a few days before the relay finals, which lead to the whole _“Smash Them Like Guitars”_ debacle. Beijing was no exception, what with sets of maracas appearing out of nowhere as well as a full drum set (including drumsticks) magically assembling itself in the center courtyard of the Village the first morning of competition right where everyone could see.

In London it’s a bright red stand up piano and matching piano bench right in the center of the dining hall. All the tables are situated in a spiral pattern around the piano so that it can be seen no matter where you’re sitting. Like usual, everyone takes their turn messing around with the crimson instrument. So much so that whenever Ryan walks into the dining hall he can hear someone banging away at the keys, producing a sound worse than nails on a chalkboard. What really gets Ryan proverbial goat is that every time Tyler fuckin’ Clary gets near the damned thing he has to pound out the intro to Linkin Park’s _In The End_. By the sixth day of the Games it’s become practically unbearable.

“I can’t take this shit,” Ryan says blearily as he sets down his overflowing food tray and takes up the last open chair at the table Cullen has designated as the official table of the US Men’s Swim Team. Ryan looks around the table and sees that Cullen, Conor, Nathan, and Matt are nodding in agreement. “Every person that touches that goddamned thing is worse on it than the one before.”

“It’s an instrument of Satan,” Conor intones darkly. “No good can come of it.”

“I’m right there with you, Cuz.” Cullen says sagely as he steals a blueberry muffin off of Ryan’s tray. “The next time Clary goes near that fuckin’ thing I’m gonna choke him until his head pops open like an overfed tic.” Cullen mimes the action of choking someone, squishing the muffin between his hands. “Yeah. Just like a big fat tic full of festering blood and pus that will explode and leave red slime everywhere.”

“ _Eww_ , Dude,” Nathan exclaims. “I’m trying to eat here.”

“Fuck I look like, Bro,” Cullen fires back. “It’s not my fault you have the stomach of an eighty year old woman.”

“Shut the fuck up, Twilight,” Matt says. “Shouldn’t you be out somewhere saving teenage girls from rogue vampires and sparkling in the sunlight?”

“Do _not_ call me that!” Cullen growls. “You know I hate that!”

“Then stop talking about bodily fluids during breakfast,” Matt counters. “You don’t see me and Nathan having a casual conversation about the consistency of jizz while we enjoy our pancakes, now do you?”

“Jesus Christ,” Cullen cringes, holds up his hands in the universal sign for surrender. “Point taken, Bro. Point taken.”

“I don’t even care anymore,” Ryan sighs exasperatedly. “I will personally go down on the first person to play a decent tune on that monstrosity. If I hear Chopsticks one more time I’m gonna ditch the Games and wander the English countryside killing hookers with a rusty spoon.”

“Are you sure you want to throw down the gauntlet like that, man?” Conor asks. “That’s a pretty serious declaration. Some people might even take it as a challenge.”

“Well then let’s make it a challenge,” Ryan nods decisively. “This is the fucking Olympics isn’t it? There’s gotta be at least one person around here who’s musically talented as well as athletic.”

“Seriously?” Matt asks. “You wanna do it?”

“Hell yeah. What’s the worst that can happen?” Ryan shrugs a shoulder.

“But what if it’s a guy?” Cullen chimes in. “Are you really gonna, you know…” Cullen makes a vulgar gesture simulating fellatio.

“Are you kidding me, Dude?,” Ryan deadpans. “I went to U of F for Christ's sake. I’ve sucked more cock than Linda Lovelace.”

“Who’s Linda Lovelace?” Nathan queries.

“Porn star from the seventies,” Matt answers. “Seriously, Nate, you’re running with the big dogs here. You gotta brush up on your vintage erotica.”

“Can we focus for just a minute?” Ryan says, rapping his knuckles against the tabletop. “I’m officially laying down a challenge here.”

“What are the terms?” Matt asks. “What do we get out of it?”

“Everybody puts up a hundred bucks then picks a person to represent them,” Ryan elaborates. “Whoever you choose comes here, plays their song, and I decide who’s the best. The winner gets an orgasm and the guy that picked the winner gets the money.”

“And you’re just gonna offer up your oral skills to a complete stranger?” Conor asks.

“Why not?” Ryan shrugs. “Sex is sex. Doesn’t really matter who you’re with. And like I said, it’s the Olympics. Everybody’s fucking everybody. I might as well get some too.”

“This is gonna end badly,” Conor predicts.

“Dude,” Ryan smirks. “It’s not fun if it doesn’t end badly.”


End file.
